


Fate Made Me

by roonilwazlibnthe1_2bloodprince



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bellarke, F/M, Soulmates, bellarke AU, blarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roonilwazlibnthe1_2bloodprince/pseuds/roonilwazlibnthe1_2bloodprince
Summary: All Bellamy wanted was to tend a quiet farm with his sister (who ran off after the war).  But then he learns his soulmate is the Great Empress of Ski (who wants him dead).  Now he’s off to join the DROP (who want him to become the Rebel King) and plan a coup (which will leave him leading the country).  His fate has far fewer chickens than he had planned, but a prophecy’s a prophecy (or so some say).Based on a tumblr post supposing you don't age past 18 until you meet your soulmate.





	1. Part One

_One’s life cannot truly be complete until one meets one’s soulmate.  Until that time comes, a person does not age past eighteen.  If a soulmate dies before the union, another will eventually be born to fill the role.  If a soulmate dies after the union, both die._

_While some have found ways to track soulmates, no one among the Mountain Men, Grounders, Ski Kru or even the mysterious People of the Ocean has discovered a way to escape them entirely._

_Some have tried._

OOO

                Bellamy’s day was going well enough until a couple of men showed up to kill him.  It was a Sunday, meaning the only chores he needed to complete were taking care of the chickens and single cow that he had bought with his salary from the war.  The chickens were once his mother’s and it was them that probably saved his life.  They started clacking the minute the men emerged from the trees.  Their noise no doubt sounded normal enough to the invaders, but Bellamy knew them well enough to recognize what it meant.

                Of course, he hadn’t immediately assumed it was a couple of thugs sent to bring back his head.  It could have been visitors, which would have been unlikely.  There was an old couple in the village, though, that seemed to have taken a liking to him.  After all, he was a handsome young man of eighteen and two and they were convinced their granddaughter was his soulmate.

                When the men circled his hut with wicked swords out, however, Bellamy got the idea.  Even their imperial insignias weren’t enough to keep him from slipping behind them and slitting their throats.  As he rolled their bodies down the hill they had just travelled up, though, he had a moment to wonder at their appearance.

                What would the Great Empress want with him?  Or, rather, not want with him?

                Whatever the reason, it probably had to do with the war.  And if it had to do with the war, it had to do with Octavia, too.  And if it had to do with Octavia…  Well, the empress herself better watch out.

OOO

                Even if his hut were still safe, he couldn’t have stayed then.  He needed to find his sister, hopefully warn her before any thugs tracked her down.  So he left extra food for his cow and chickens, wrote a note to the Roberts for when they came calling asking them to watch over the animals, and headed over the hill where he had last seen his sister walk.

                Bellamy had never been weak and the war had only served to toughen him further.  But even a veteran with a mission can only travel so many days without resting.  Before his legs gave out underneath him, he found a cheap inn where he could spend the night.

                He knew enough to keep his head down, but paranoia threatened to make him jumpy.  Even as he clasped his hands around a mug of warm ale, his neck prickled from the feel of eyes.  When the calming drink was halfway gone and he still felt it, he chanced a glance around under the guise of seeing who had caused a clattering noise.  His surreptitiousness failed as he locked eyes with a strange woman seated by herself.  The wise option would be to escape as covertly as he could manage.  And that was the plan, until he spotted the beads in her hair.

                His travels had taken him close to the plateau’s cliffs, but it was incredibly rare to see a Person of the Ocean anywhere.  They were a reclusive lot, but they had the sense to stay out of other nation’s affairs and he respected them for that.  It was for that reason he felt safe enough in carrying his drink over to her table and pulling up a chair.

                He waited for her to speak, figured she would.  But she only stared imperiously so he broke the silence, instead.

                “I don’t know you.”

                “No.”

                Bellamy sighed, raised his eyebrows.  “Do you know me?”

                She smiled, an infuriating expression but an improvement nevertheless.  “It’s hard to know people.”

                Her comment made him want to roll his eyes but the opportunity was too important for such insolence.

                “Have you managed to know my sister?  Do you know where she might be?”

                The woman seemed surprised, but it only amused her.  “Your sister?”

                “ _Yes_.  My sister.  She’s in danger.”

                 She took a sip of her drink.  “ _You’re_ in danger.”

                 “Thanks.”  Now he really did roll his eyes, allowed himself to lean back in the chair.  “I gathered that.”

                 The woman shrugged.  “Then you should worry more about yourself.”

                 “Anything that’s coming after me’s bound to come after O.  And no matter what’s after us, that doesn’t stop making us family.

                 She winced at his comment, finally reacting properly to his words.

                 “You look like you understand,” he acknowledged.  “So are you going to help me Miss…”

                 “Luna,” she supplied, easier than he expected.

                 “Miss Luna.”

                 “Just Luna.”

                 “Fine.  Luna.  You know where she might be?”

                 She stared him down, watched him start to consider squirming.  “I don’t have the information you think I do.”

                 “You know something.”

                 “I do.”

                 Silence followed the statement.  Finally, Bellamy shook his head in exasperation, rose from his seat.

                 “Well,” he said dryly.  “Looks like we’re done here.”

                 Her voice stopped him before he took a step.  “If you want to find your missing sister, you should look in the place where many disappear.”

                 “Yeah?” Any attempt at manners was well and truly gone, but he did turn back around.  “Where’s that?”

                 Luna gave a humored smile as she looked up at him.  “The DROP site.”

                 Bellamy blinked.  “Those rebels?  You think my sister joined them?”

                 She shrugged.

                 “Right.” He nodded, actually grateful.  “Well, thanks.  It’s better than what I got.”

                 He started to walk away again, but the scraping sound of Luna’s chair slowed him.  Her words froze him.

                 “You still should probably worry about yourself.”

                 Baited, he turned around with a false smile and defiant jut of his chin.  “Really?  Why’s that?”

                 Luna gave him that creepy little smile again, made him stand there a moment before she answered him.

                 “Because ‘O’ isn’t soulmate to your empress.”

OOO

                 It had taken a couple minutes of infuriating negotiation to get Luna to sit back down and explain herself.  It took another minute or so for Bellamy to calm enough to ask coherent questions.

                 “So, how do you know this?”

                 She only raised her eyebrows in response.

                 “Fine.  Ocean voodoo.  Moving on.”

                 This earned him an even higher raise in her eyebrows, but he was too preoccupied to care.

                 “But _why_ … I mean, I can guess why- what dictator wouldn’t want to live forever?” Bellamy rambled.  “But, for argument’s sake, _why_ does she have to _kill_ me?  Why not just keep me away?  Surely it’d be easier to deal with a single soulmate than tracking down a new one every decade or so.”

                 Luna looked at him like he was quite stupid.  “Well, her concern is probably for the prophecy.”

                 Bellamy stuck out his head, as if to hear her better.  “What prophecy?”

                 “The one concerning the empress of Ski Kru.” More raised eyebrows.  “I suppose your people would not be very familiar with it.”

                 “No,” Bellamy answered through grit teeth.  “We’re not.  Care to share?”

                 Suddenly patient, she leaned over the table and looked him straight in the eye.  Bellamy couldn’t help but lean discreetly back from her unnerving gaze.

                 “The prophecy states that it will be a soulmate of the Great Empress herself who will unseat her as empress.  She’s not taking any chances.”

                 Luna gave Bellamy a minute to process the information, allowing him to be the one to finally break the silence.

                 “So I’m fated to, what?” Bellamy asked.  “Kill my soulmate and take over Ski?”

                 “Not fated,” she snapped.  “Nothing’s inevitable.”

                Bellamy furrowed his brow.  “But the prophecy said-“

                “Prophecy or no prophecy,” Luna interrupted, “your soul is your responsibility.  You don’t get to use these words as an excuse for your choices.”

                He considered arguing with her, but it seemed important to her that he understand her so he pretended he did.  Her words, however, did trigger a question.

                “So I do have a choice?”

                She smiled eerily before saying, “You always have a choice.”

OOO

                He was surprised the next morning when Luna met him outside the inn.

                “You’re moving on?” she guessed.

                Bellamy managed a smile.  “As interesting as this all is, it doesn’t change the fact that I need to make sure my sister’s safe.”

                She nodded.  “I understand.  Be careful on your journey, Bellamy.  Take care of your soul.”

                “I’m really just looking to find my sister,” he assured before adding with humor, “And hopefully not getting murdered on the way.”

                She shook her head.  “Prophecies change things.”

                “Not-“

                “You have a sister?” Luna interrupted, fiercer than he expected.  “I had a brother.”

                Bellamy froze.

                “Then there came a prophecy saying only one of us could live and I was sure, I was so sure…”  She hesitated before continuing, “I had a plan in place, a plan to kill my own brother before he could kill me.”

                Thinking of Octavia, Bellamy didn’t bother keeping a look of disgusted wonder from his face.  “You killed your brother?”

                “No.”  Her voice was hard for the word, but broke for the rest.  “We were in battle together during the war.  It was going to be our last one; my plan was for that evening.  But fate intervened.  An enemy arrow was headed for me.  My _brother_ pushed me aside.  He died smiling, said the prophecy was right.”

                Bellamy’s thoughts wandered again to his own family.

                “He loved you.”

                Luna scowled.  “I loved him, too.”

                Bellamy startled.

                “ _That’s_ why you need to be careful,” Luna clarified.

OOO

                It was remarkable how lonely Bellamy’s journey began to seem after even just a short span of Luna’s odd company.  Even if her lead proved to be a dead end, it was a relief to find himself at the DROP site gates and actually be allowed to talk to someone.

                Of course, the guard nearly ruined it by being so unwelcoming.

                “Announce yourself,” he barked from the top of the ramshackle but imposing wall.

                “Bellamy Blake.”

                The guard trained his bow, leading his partner to do the same.  “Well, Bellamy Blake.  You should turn around.”

                Bellamy shook his head at the ground, looked up again to squint at the voice.  “Excuse me if I don’t do that.”

                His new friend raised and lowered his bow, as if to draw Bellamy's attention to something he had somehow missed.  “This is a private camp and we are armed to defend it.”

                “Probably a good idea when you’re housing a rebellion.”

                Even from twenty feet below, the rebel’s amusement was evident.  Still.  “Thanks for the approval, but this isn’t how our recruitment process works.  You want in, go to the village.  We’ll send someone to you in the next few days.”

                Bellamy actually turned and took a few obedient steps from the camp.  But he stopped sharply after only going a couple paces, mumbling to himself. “This is stupid.”

                Before the guards had fully relaxed, he strode back over to them.  Their bows raised once more, more on edge than before.

                “You want to take down the empress?” he called up impatiently.

                The original guard shifted.  Considered the words, but ended up saying, “That’s the idea.”

                “Then let me in.  I’m her soulmate.”

                His statement left them speechless for a moment, if their near silhouettes were any indication.  But in a moment the guard recovered and was calling down to people on his side of the wall to open the gates.  Not allowing himself the chance to second guess himself, Bellamy walked through the gates to an already gathering crowd.

                “Well, Bellamy Blake, _soulmate_ to the empress,” the man he recognized as the guard greeted him.  “Welcome to the Despotic Rebellion Official Party.  We’re glad to have you.”

OOO

                The guard, who he now learned was named Miller, called someone else to take his place on the wall and personally led Bellamy’s orientation.  He seemed to be in charge, if Bellamy were to judge, but he didn’t act too excited to be making any decisions.  His order for a replacement came out as a question.  Still, the rebels all seemed happy to listen.

                Word travelled fast in the small camp and pretty soon a small crowd was following their progress through the tour.  Their excited chatter all directed at him made Bellamy a bit nervous after a week on the run, but they clearly meant well.

                A highlight was when one voice cut through the crowd.

                “Bellamy?!”

                He turned and beamed as his sister ran straight into him.  She gave little notice before jumping into his arms for an exuberant hug.

                Speaking into her hair, he muttered, “Hey, O.”

                She pulled back sharply and pushed his shoulder.

                “Don’t you ‘Hey, O’ me!  What’s this that people are saying?  Word’s going round you’re soulmates with the empress.”

                Bellamy met her indignant look with a big brother stare of his own invention.  “Yeah?  Well, rumor has it you up and joined a rebellion.”

                “Are you trying to compare the two?” Octavia asked, jaw set.  “Is that what you’re trying to do?”

                He answered with a wide smile that she returned after lasting less than fifteen seconds of continued brooding.  Despite their audience, she gave him another quick hug before allowing the procession to keep moving.

                The site’s party name was a too prestigious for the operation Bellamy was observing, but it was in decent shape.  Its leadership was a bit shaky, but its followers were eager and everyone’s intentions were in the right place.  By the time night came, they had arranged for Bellamy dinner and a place to stay close to their main meeting location.  After hearing the prophecy, Miller informed him the DROP would want to start involving him in rebellion operations.  Once they corroborated his story, of course.

                Bellamy didn’t bother asking how they planned on doing such a thing.  If their source agreed, he’s soon have enough power to learn.  If it said something different, well, maybe there was a chance Luna was wrong.

                Octavia helped him settle in, telling stories all the while with enthusiasm and more detail than was probably allowed when discussing DROP activities with an outsider.  He relished the time, but she kissed his cheek in parting soon after he finished making his bed.

                “Where’re you off to?” he asked before she could get out the door.

                She hesitated, leaned on the frame in contemplation.  “You’ve been travelling for a week; you should get some rest for tomorrow.”

                “I’m good to stay up.  I haven’t seen you in four months.”

                Octavia swayed.  He realized, suddenly, even before she said it, there was another reason.

                “I have a meeting,” she offered vaguely.  “Sorry, big brother.”

                Too happy to see her to manage annoyance, he waved her off that was wholly insufficient in hiding his affection.  “Go on.  Leave me to sleep.”

                His sister ran out with a sly smile, but darted back a moment later to add, “I’m glad you’re here, Bellamy.”

                “It’s good to see you, O,” he answered with a small smile.


	2. Part Two

He learned shortly after breakfast the source had indeed agreed with Luna’s prophecy.  The flurry of activity on that first day gave Bellamy little time to ask the source and the interrogated came up with plenty of distractions to throw his way.  Within his first week, however, he had it figured out.

                After hearing the Blakes reminisce about their once leaky roof Bellamy had repaired a few summers back, Miller asked him to help with some damaged shelters on the outskirts of camp.  A huge man, Lincoln, agreed to help.

                They had been working together to lift boards when the stack pushed aside the collar of Lincoln’s shirt.  Bellamy waited until the boards were safely set down before nodding to the markings the slip had revealed.

                “Those are Ground tattoos,” he said simply.

                Lincoln matched his hard look.  A nod.

                “Care to explain?”

                Clearly not.  But Lincoln didn’t adopt the same confrontational tone.  “They know.”

                “Figured.”  Bellamy folded his arms.  “I suppose you’re the one who checked my prophecy.”

                Another nod.

                This one he returned, and they went back to their repairs.

                Bellamy was fuming when they returned to the hub of camp.  One look from Lincoln sufficiently informed the rest what he had discovered and explanations immediately rose up.

                “He’s been working with us a while,” Miller assured him.  “One of our first recruits.  Yeah, he wants better relations between Ski and Ground, but that’s no surprise.  I’d be suspicious if he didn’t.  Really, he’s loyal to us.”

                Hearing his snort, Octavia jumped in.  “He’s with the rebellion, Bell.  Been here longer than either of us and never given them any reason to doubt.  That’s gotta say something.”

                “He’s a Grounder, O.  _That_ says something,” he finally snapped.  “Six months ago they were trying to kill you, probably still would if you ran into one.

                “Not this one,” she said firmly.

                He huffed, started to walk away but she grabbed his arm.

                “I know, Bellamy.”  Seeing his look, she persisted.  “Look, I _know_.  But this is different.  I trust him.”

                Her last sentence was soft, insistent.  Finally, he looked her in the eye and she gazed back with complete confidence.  When he failed to find any doubt there, Bellamy sighed.

                “Fine.”

                Octavia didn’t look as triumphant as he would have expected, just leaned over with a small smile to kiss his cheek.

                “ _Thank you_.”

OOO

                It was probably a good thing Bellamy hadn’t made anything too complicated with the Grounder because, as it turned out, the rebellion itself was a lot more complicated than he had realized.

                There was Miller, of course, who led the DROP rebellion even though he would tell anyone who’d listen that he wasn’t the leadership type.

                Then there was Murphy, who everyone said they hated and often acted like it.  After watching them for about a week, however, Bellamy noticed that no one actually did or said anything to purposely hurt him at all.  Sure, they’d threaten to leave him in the woods next hunting party or mistake him for an invader next time he walked at night, but they never, say, took a shot about his dead parents.  There was a line and it was a strange line, but people rarely crossed it.  He had earned Bellamy’s gratitude by stopping an assassin sent by the empress.

                Monty and Jasper were best friends and Monty liked Harper and Harper might even like him back and Jasper seemed to approve of the whole thing but Monty didn’t seem so sure so he didn’t say anything and Harper might be disappointed by it and Jasper was a bit too amused but kept Monty distracted with some extra projects.  It wasn’t so bad, but every now and then they had to separate Monty and Harper to keep them both focused.  There was also an official DROP bucket brigade to put out Monty and Jasper’s occasional fires.

                Everyone was at least slightly terrified of Octavia, which amused him.

                He asked Raven about it at one point and she answered with a flair of the obvious, “She’s _killed_ people.”

                “We were in a war,” Bellamy countered and then, not because he was proud of it but because it was a point that needed to be made, “I killed people, too.”

                Raven shook her head.  “Maybe.  But Octavia looks it.”

                He wasn’t sure where she was getting that from.  Octavia just looked to him like Octavia, his baby sister.  She seemed to spend too much time with the Grounder, but there was very little he could do about that.  She was seventeen and just about done being under his authority.

                Raven was cool.  She was a complete genius, a bit too proud of her ability to make things explode, incredibly handy with any set of tools, and soulmate to Finn.

                Bellamy couldn’t say for sure he liked Finn; they just disagreed on so much.  While he was only just out of the war with the Grounders, the other man advocated for a peaceful resolution.  They were talking around the fire one evening when Bellamy found himself snapping.

                “You talk a lot about peace for someone in a rebellion.”

                Finn looked unwavering right into one of Bellamy’s more intimidating expressions, earning some of Bellamy’s respect right there.

                “They talk a lot about fighting for people trying to establish a stable government,” he cut back a bit smugly.

                There wasn’t much of a defense to that- the rebels were constantly discussing wartime strategies, be it against the current government or their neighbors.  Bellamy learned early on that there was one person in particular who loved talking about war.

                Pike was one of the few older adults involved in DROP.  No one seemed to know where his soulmate was and no one seemed interested in asking.  His politics were harsh, but most of the Rebels loved him for how well he trained them to live in the dangerous woods surrounding the DROP site.  Bellamy mostly fell into this category and found it strange that others disagreed.  Finn he understood- Finn had his own opinions for everything- but Octavia’s disapproval came unexpected.

                But it wasn’t like he had a lot of time to chat about it.  The rebellion, inspired by Bellamy’s recruitment, was launching even more campaigns across the plateau of Ski.  Their camp was in constant need of expansion and repair.  People always seemed interested in talking with him, as if he knew anything more about the empress’ weaknesses than they did.  There was also the issue of the kill order on his head.

                The assassin Murphy had caught was the first to breach the main wall, but it wasn’t the last.  There was a near constant guard following Bellamy including, uncomfortably, the Grounder, Lincoln.  They needed to triple check everyone entering the DROP site, and they rarely allowed new rebels anywhere near it, which severely limited their training prospects.  The target himself was growing anxious after the eleventh attempt on his life and even more troubled with hiding his anxiety.

                Bellamy was with the rebellion four months when they decided his death sentence was just too inconvenient.

                “I mean, you’re worth it,” Miller assured him, “but it’s messing with our recruitment process.”

                “So what’s the plan then?” Bellamy finally asked.

                “We think it’s time you met your soulmate.”

OOO

                People failed to notice that this actually wasn’t as much of a plan as an idea so it turned out it was really Bellamy that handled that problem.  He was the one who learned the empress was taking a tour to check in with local leaders later that month and it was him that arranged a couple of rebels to blow their dangerous covers as guards and return to the relative safety of the DROP site.  The rest of the entourage was taken care of with a mixture of deception and violence dear to guerilla groups everywhere.  It had taken every last day to plan and Bellamy was in the thick of all of it, but nothing seemed sufficient to prepare him for the sight of _her_ silhouette through the window of the carriage led into their waiting ambush.

                In one last gesture of deception, a guard politely opened the door of the carriage to hand out his empress.

                The empress’s personal guard ruined the effect by stepping out first.

                “What on ear-“

                Miller silenced him with a sharp blow to the chin, hard enough to knock the man unconscious.

                The empress must have known what was happening then, yet she stepped out almost immediately afterwards with no further prompting from them.  She accepted the hand Miller still offered and effortlessly looked imperious as she surveyed the gathered crew.

                Bellamy was so sure there would be a tingle, a pain, a soul’s sigh, a sense of vertigo, a feeling of dej ja vu, _something_.  Amazingly, he felt nothing.  Except maybe a bit of surprise because while in his head he knew the empress was only physically eighteen, it seemed he was still expecting someone at least thirty.  But, no, she looked very young.  And short.  And when she had her face carefully arranged for nonchalance, it would be easy to believe she were innocent.

                “I suppose this is a kidnapping?” she questioned, “Or simply an assassination?”

                “Neither, Empress,” Miller corrected with an enigmatic smile. “Just wanted to make some introductions.  If you’d please take a seat?”

                He indicated the chair Jasper had unpacked from the back of the carriage.  It was clear from the intricate caring and careful concern for comfort that it was indeed _her_ seat.  She sat with nothing more than a skeptically raised eyebrow, but protested when they brought forth ropes.

                “Surely that isn’t necessary,” she directed at Miller.  “I’ve made no objections to your introductions.”

                “Ah, but you might.”

                She seemed to realize, suddenly, what they had planned.  Immediately, she began to struggle against Jasper and Monty, almost breaking free until Finn lent a hand.

                “Finn?” she exclaimed upon seeing him.

                Bellamy looked around to catch someone’s eye.  Surely they were all as surprised at the outburst as he was.  No one else seemed shocked.

                “Finn.  Finn, _please_.  You don’t understand what you’re doing.  You just have to trust me.”

                Seeing him pained but determined, she locked eyes with other members of the group in turn.

                “ _Listen to me_ ,” she insisted.  “Don’t do this.  There are worse things for you than just what I want.”

                “Maybe,” Miller relented, “but I’m feeling pretty good about this.  Empress, I think I speak for everyone when I say I’m happy to officially introduce you to your soulmate, Bellamy Blake.”

                She froze, ending the squirming of trying to free herself her from Jasper’s hasty but tight knots.  All of her resistance focused instead on squeezing her eyes shut.

It was trading one undignified action for another but Bellamy couldn’t help but admire her spirit.  In a strange way, this actually matched better with her legends than stepping imperiously out of a carriage; she was a leader who would do whatever it took to accomplish her goals.  Ideally that would mean having her soulmate die months before he knew who she was to him.  But if they come to be in the same forest clearing, it meant keeping her eyes shut.

                He had no doubt in her resolve, but even she had to recognize when a situation was hopeless.  Still, he gave Miller a silent nod.

                “Alright, people,” Miller announced.  “Let’s give a minute to our fearless leader.”

                He led the group down the path a ways to give some privacy as Bellamy quietly stayed.  There was little chance of her actually falling for it, so Bellamy was unsurprised when her eyes remained resolutely closed.  Bellamy had intended to be mature about things, but she _had_ sent men to kill him so he fell a bit short when he finally spoke.

                “You look ridiculous.”

                Her face scrunched a bit in annoyance, but her eyes didn’t budge.

                Bellamy rolled his eyes.  “It’s not like you can avoid this.  It probably counts as a meeting already.”

                No response from her at that.  Sighing, Bellamy leaned forward, moving to pry her eyelids open like he used to for Octavia when she refused to wake up for chores.  With his hand an inch from her face, however, her eyes snapped open into a glare.  Bellamy jumped back.

                “Bellamy, is it?”

                Her sudden response startled him and this seemed to please her on some level.  It was his turn to glare as she smirked

                “So,” she drawled.  “You’ve heard the prophecy.”

                It didn’t really seem a question, but he nodded anyways, with as much attitude as he was capable.

                “And you’re coming to take my throne?” she led.

                “Something along those lines.”

                She raised her eyebrows at him.  “That’s vague.  Either you’re being delicate or you have no idea what you’re going to do.”  A smile.  “And people have never been delicate about wanting to take me down.”

                “Maybe I’m choosing my own style,” he countered.

                “Of delicacy?” she tested.  “You kidnapped me.”

                “Temporarily.”

                “Truly a comfort.” As far as her bindings would allow her, she waved an arm genially at their surroundings.   “Will you be letting me go to wander in the dangerous woods alone or…?”

                “We’ll leave you here and send your guards the location once we’re out of the area.”  He managed a humored smile.  “Can’t have you dying on us.”

                She cocked her head to the side and met his eye in a way that shook him, although he’d never let her see. “No.  I suppose that’s one less thing to worry about.”

                Bellamy smirked.  “Feeling’s mutual.”

                The empress held his gaze a few more seconds than was comfortable before breaking it with a casual shrug.

                “So, we done here?” she asked.

                “Not quite.”

                It had been Octavia’s idea, approved by Miller.  They needed a way to let the people know mortality had found their empress and this one seemed to hold some finesse.

OOO

                “It was a pleasure meeting you, Empress,” Miller said with false gravity. 

The rest of the group chuckled as they made final preparations for their long hike back.  The empress only glared back, all traces of her former aloofness gone.

                “Sorry about that,” Bellamy said with a nod to the source of her annoyance.  “Couldn’t have anyone doubting what happened today.”

                Finally, she snapped.  “I think it’ll do a little more than stop their doubts.”

                He smiled.  “Calm down, I barely touched you.”

                His comment sent her back to glaring until the rebels finally left her alone in the clearing.  She knew she needed to compose herself some time before her guards found her, but the mean time she would spend stewing in her fury and wondering how she was going to find robes capable of hiding the new hickey on her neck.

OOO

                If Bellamy had any hopes of his life calming down after meeting the Great Empress, they were soon disappointed.  The number of assassins did drop significantly, that was true.  Every now and then one did come along, but they typically took pity on those for their poor sources.  Miller sent them back to spread the word further:  the empress had met her soulmate and he was coming for her throne.  Instead of fending off potential murderers, however, Bellamy was now stepping up as leader of the DROP rebels.

                He by no means relished the position, but there was no denying he was good at it.  They increased their number of demonstrations significantly since he took charge of planning them and he made sure to cut the amount of residual damage for each one.  Miller was elated.

                The perk of the new power was, well, the power.  Typically, he was pretty good about not abusing it.  He sometimes nodded for Jasper or Raven to follow Octavia when he knew she was going to talk to that Grounder.  A couple of times he might have played innocent when Murphy attempted to bribe him with an extra portion of meat.  The real advantage he appreciated, however, was the access it gave him to information.  For instance, Finn’s connection to his soulmate.

                Finn was leading him through the woods for hunting when Bellamy first broached the subject.  He tried to start delicately, simply reviewing the short-lived kidnapping to his companion’s obvious discomfort, before getting to the point.

                “So what did you say was the reason, again, for how she knew your name?”

                Although a small smile came to his face, Finn never looked up from the prints he was studying.  “I never said how she knew my name.”

                Bellamy nodded, shifted his gun, tried to ignore the unidentifiable feeling settling in his stomach.  “I see.”

                “This is you asking, isn’t it?” he glanced up now with an amused smile.

                He received only raised eyebrows in reply but continued nevertheless.  “I came into Ark looking for a better smithing apprenticeship.  She came into the store, looking so young and innocent. I didn’t realize who she was and when I learned, I didn’t see the monster people talked about.  I felt like I understood her in a way no one else did.  So I- I thought she was my soulmate.”

                Seeing Bellamy’s look, he pushed back his hair, as if exhausted.  “I know it seems stupid now, but I was aging the whole time I was with her.  She must have known.  She must not have realized that was what I was thinking, though.  Then I started talking about marriage, and she told me she had a way of knowing who her soulmate was.  And it wasn’t me.”  The memory clearly disturbed him, but he recovered quickly.  “I left Ark after that, of course, and I came home to find Raven had just kept on aging, as well.  It was her all along.”

                There was something still bothering him that he couldn’t place, but Bellamy wasn’t completely heartless.  Finn had told him more than he wanted and now deserved some sort of comfort.

                “Sounds like you got the better end of the deal.”

                Finn smiled as he started walking once more and Bellamy obediently followed.

                “Well, I didn’t know about the whole murdering part, now did I?” His smile was genuine, but his face turned serious for another moment.  “But, really, Bellamy.  She’s not as bad as people say.  I know you are still going to do what you have to do and I respect that.  Really.  But she is human, the empress; it hardly seems possible, but she is.”

                Bellamy found himself staring after that comment, so he was relieved when Finn quickly turned the conversation back to a more comfortable topic.

                “Anyways, it definitely came this way and it looks like Jasper might have actually hit it, amazing as that sounds.  You can decide if we tell him that or not- we won’t hear the end of it for a month if you do, though.”

OOO

                Octavia found him sitting on a shelter towards the edge of camp.  He didn’t need to look to know it was her climbing up to settle down beside him.

                “Hey, big brother,” she greeted quietly.

                It felt like years since his sister had said anything quietly that wasn’t a threatening whisper.  The softness got a smile out of him.

                “Hey, O.”

                She smiled to herself, even swung her feet a bit over the edge.

                “You hiding from Miller?”

                He winced at that, which made her laugh.  There was no defense to the truth and all he could do was look over with a guilty smile.

                “What?” she asked with a laugh.  “Tired of being the Rebel King?”

                Bellamy couldn’t help but roll his eyes.  “Et tu, Octavia?”

                His sister laughed and he smiled at the sound.

                “Sorry, your highness.  It’s been decided.  All recent demonstrations have been attributed to our rising leader and there’s no going back now.”

                He groaned and she laughed again.

                “Miller’s thrilled.”

                “I know,” Bellamy said.  “He’s just loving passing over the power, keeps saying he’s not the leadership type.”

                “Well,” Octavia answered, “He’s not.  That’s what we have you for.”

                “Thanks for reminding me.  That why you came up here?  To ruin my peace?”

                Octavia’s laughter died at that and suddenly she grew awkward, started paying more attention to her swinging feet.

                “No,” she admitted.  “There was something else.”

                He nudged her, hoped it was reassuring.  “Well?”

                Clearing her throat, she spoke but avoided his eye.  “Lincoln and I have been spending a lot of time together since I’ve gotten here.”

                Bellamy froze, but attempted a joke.  “I thought you were better at hiding your secrets than this.”

                “I want you to know.”  Finally, Octavia met his gaze.

                “Why?” her brother answered, even as he tried to temper his annoyance on the subject.  “You know what I think about you seeing that Grounder.  Seriously, O, why waste your time?”

                Like she was blurting out a secret, she said, “He went for his physical last week.”

                Instantly, Bellamy’s tone turned concerned.  “Everything okay?”

                “Everything’s fine,” she insisted.  Then, biting her lip but resolutely staring him down, she continued, “Bellamy, he’s grown two inches since his last check in.”

                “That could be-“

                “It’s not.”

                Fighting his rising panic, Bellamy asked, “And you’re sure it’s you?”

                “I’m the only new recruit he’s seen in that time.  Other than you,” she said with a smile.

                He stewed over that a moment.  Then, once he was calm enough to speak rationally, he broke their silence.

                “Even if he is…” He found himself unable to finish the thought.  “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

                Octavia smirked.  “You saying that for me or you?”

                “Mostly me.”

                He couldn’t help but join her in smiling because it had been too long since they had something to smile over together and he missed it.  Missed it enough that he was willing to celebrate his baby sister having a giant Grounder for a soulmate.

                “Good.”  Octavia nudged him with her shoulder.  “Because I’m happy.”

                He nudged her back, turned his eyes to watch her still swinging feet, couldn’t keep himself from making a joke.  “I never was sure about your judgement.”

                “Bell…”

                “Alright,” he relented.  “I’m… I’ll be happy for you.”

                Octavia looked surprised with the force of her delight.  “Really?”

                “Yeah.  But if something happens, soulmate or no soulmate, I’m kicking his butt.”

                His sister leaned her head peacefully on his shoulder like she was still a kid.  He could feel her the muscles of her face straining under the weight of her smile through the fabric of his shirt.

                “Okay, big brother.  Okay.”

                He passed by Lincoln at the fire that evening.  He was a bit uncertain for the protocol of the situation, but settled on a nod.  It wasn’t much, but it was clearly more than surrounding people were expecting and it earned him Octavia’s nod of approval for his efforts.

OOO

                The Mecca job was a mess from the start.  Murphy had been goading them all to interfering ever since he heard about the shortage of medical supplies that was happening there.  It seemed the station was ripe for rebellion and no one could think of an adequate argument other than it was risky.  They were running a rebellion; everything was risky.

                While it might not have seemed it, Bellamy had designed a plan for when they got there.  Lincoln and Harper would get Raven and Monty into their government office to rig a _small_ explosion.  Miller seemed confident he could get into their medical storage; Murphy and Pike would cover him.  Bellamy, Octavia, and Finn would stand by to distribute supplies.

                Here’s what actually happened:  Lincoln and Harper missed a guard during their patrol and by the time Lincoln caught him, he had sounded an alarm.  Raven and Monty then had to disassemble their explosion so it wouldn’t go off with them still in the room with no means for an exit.  Without the distraction, Murphy, Pike, and Miller were slow getting the supplies out and gained some attention.  All this meant that by the time the supplies made their way to Bellamy’s team, they were behind schedule with half the station’s guard on their backs.

                “So we’re saying this is all Murphy’s fault, right?” Octavia called back to him as they darted to find better cover.

                Waving her through the door he was holding open, Bellamy had only a moment to give her a look.  “Not the time, O.”

                “More like your boyfriend’s fault,” shot back Murphy who, surprisingly, had volunteered to hang back and pass out supplies even after Pike and Miller ran for the trees like the original plan said.  “Or did I miss the explosion?”

                Bellamy was running once more, but he made a moment to give him a look.  “ _Not_ the time, Murphy.”

                “I don’t think the Rebel King’s supposed to play favorites.”

                If the Rebel King had a retort, they’d never find out because at that moment they caught the distinct noises of searching stomps and shouts.  It was to be expected, of course, but they were hoping it wouldn’t come from so close.  Or from their only exit.

                The three froze to exchange panicked looks.  Shaking himself, Bellamy forced himself to recover.

                “Quick,” he started, kicking open a door nearby.  “In here.  Take these.”  He handed his bag of supplies to Murphy.  “And wait until they pass.  I’ll lead them the other way.  _Get these supplies to Miller_ , you hear?”

                “Bellamy, _no_ ,” Octavia insisted.  “Don’t be an idiot.”

                “Relax,” he answered with a forced smile, “I’m the empress’ soulmate, remember?  They can’t hurt me.”

                His sister shook her head.  “They can’t _kill_ you, you moron.  There’s a difference.”

                But Murphy, who had accepted the supplies without protest, grabbed her arm.  “Come on, Octavia.  He knows what he’s doing.”

                She continued to protest as he dragged her through the door.  Bellamy met his eye with a look of approval and said, sincerely, “Thank you.”

                Murphy nodded and disappeared through the doorway to hide, shutting the broken door behind him as best he could.

                The guards, attracted by the noise of their breaking and entering, were getting closer fast.  With a sigh and knocking over a few crates for good measure, Bellamy took off at a sprint once again.

                He didn’t have very high hopes for an escape, but it really did look like he could make it until he made a wrong turn.  Those ridiculous Mecca streets were constantly winding and doubling back so while he _meant_ to be heading for the woods, he ended up sneaking up behind a crowd of guards.  If it were ten minutes earlier, he might have retreated unnoticed and found his way.  As it was, he had been running for a while now and his heavy breathing, try as he might to control it, soon betrayed him.

                A guard glanced back casually enough, but soon grew excited.  “There!  A DROP rebel.”

                For his credit, Bellamy did run, but it was a short chase.  The guards soon caught him and had him pinned face down in the street.

                “Give me one reason,” the one holding him down snarled, “why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

                Octavia would have called him stupid, but Bellamy could only think about strategy at the moment.  He had met the empress.  If he died, she died and all his friends would have an open shot at forming their democracy.  It certainly wasn’t their original plan, but in this situation it might have been his best one.

                Bellamy did his best to shrug given the conditions.  “I’ll admit; nothing comes to mind.”

                “How refreshing, an honest Rebel.”  From the sound of his voice, the man truly was delighted.

                There was the press of cold metal against his neck.  Sharp.  A prick of pressure and then-

                “Stop!” another of the guards shouted.  Bellamy could feel the knee on his back twisting as his captor faced the new voice.  “Do you not recognize the Rebel King?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, and thank you for your encouraging words. If you have a moment, I always appreciate comments so I can work to improve my writing. Thanks for reading.


	3. Part Three

OOO

                When she saw him, she sighed.  The guards forced him to his knees, a bow he supposed, or the pose for an execution.  Luckily, that was one thing he wouldn’t have to worry about.  The empress must have been thinking the same, because she was looking at him like a troubling puzzle.

                “What are you going to do?” he reproached.  “You can’t just kill me.”

                “No,” she agreed sadly.  “I can’t just kill you.  First I have to Rive us.”

                Bellamy found himself giving her an odd look, far more vulnerable than he had intended to be throughout his captivity.  “You have to what us?”

                “Rive.”

                Fighting annoyance, he asked, “Which is what, exactly?”

                “The separation of soulmates.”  Seeing his look, she continued, “It’s a ceremony.  A rather complicated one if Jackson’s to be believed.  There’s a lot of smoke, a dove’s heart, some basil, a bit of your blood, bit of my blood.  The works.”

                He stared, his heart sinking.  “And then you kill me.”

                “And _then_ I kill you,” she repeated with what almost looked like sympathy.  “You should have just died on your farm with your chickens.”

                “Don’t you touch my chickens!”

                The empress looked startled then, realizing her mistake, quickly shook her head.  “Your chickens are fine.  Your neighbors took them in when they realized you were gone.  Charming couple.  Kept talking about their pretty granddaughter.  I didn’t have the heart to tell them you were taken.

                Bellamy glared.  “Don’t touch the Roberts, either.”

                “I would never.”  She looked genuinely offended at this.  “I don’t hurt my own people, Bellamy.”

                He merely raised his eyebrows at her.  She seemed to catch his meaning.

                “Well, you’re special, aren’t you?”

                He grumbled about that under his breath for a minute while she ignored him until he finally came up with an articulate complaint.  “So why don’t you just do this ceremony, this Rive, every time you get a soulmate.  Wouldn’t that avoid the prophecy as well as killing us?  Or is it just too risky?”

                Her arrogant smile turned sad and his own face, against his will, softened.

                “No, too costly.”

                Some part of his brain, maybe his soul, warned him against being sarcastic, but he ignored it.  “Didn’t realize the market for dove hearts was so tough nowadays.”

                She laughed, a sound more sad than harsh and he hated that he liked it, in a way.  “The ingredients are pretty reasonably priced, I’ll give you that.  But the ceremony itself, it strips a piece of your soul when you conduct it, whatever piece was linked to the other person.”

                “Your-“ Bellamy recoiled.  “Where’d you learn a ceremony like that?”

                “My soulmate.”

                He couldn’t keep his eyes from widening in horror, didn’t even bother to hide it.  For his reaction, he received yet another sad smile.

                “Her name was Lexa,” she explained.  “She was a Grounder, their commander, actually.  I thought our bond would bring peace between our people, but it seemed they were still unready.  Too much bad blood.  I was a conflict of interest, so she Rived me.”

                “Where’s she now?” he found himself asking, from pure curiosity. 

                “I killed her.”

                Seeing his look, she shrugged and added, “She was planning to kill me.  ‘Love is weakness’ as she used to say.”

                “So with that advice you’ve been killing and Riving all of your soulmates?”

                When she answered, her voice was quiet.  “No, you’ll be my first Rive.”

                “Really?” Bellamy questioned, amazed.

                She ducked her head in a quick laugh.  “Are you that surprised to learn my soul is still whole?”

                That seemed a low thing to say, even to someone trying to kill him, and Bellamy always tried to be wary of certain lines.  Even when it came to the empress.

                “No,” he rushed to say, then realized the truth of it.  “No, I guess not.  You’re not as much of a monster as people think you are.”

                She blinked at the statement, seemed to recognize the sincerity in it.

                Seeing this, he added.  “If I’m going to die and condemn my nation to another couple decades of dictatorship, you’re probably the person I’d want in charge, Empress.”

                The silence that fell was short, but it felt heavy, heavier in its own way than their conversation about his death.  Stupidly, Bellamy felt he had ruined something, but couldn’t think of what.  Finally, the empress broke the spell.

                “Clarke.”

                Bellamy startled.  “What?”

                “My name,” she clarified.  “It’s Clarke.  If you’re my soulmate, we could probably be on a first name basis.”

                “Clarke,” he tested.  “Not as scary as ‘Empress’.”

                “Well, I’m still going to kill you.”  
                He laughed.  “So, scary enough.”

                She nodded, pleased, and gave a half smile he instinctively returned.

OOO

                Bellamy had been imprisoned for a month, she still hadn’t killed him yet, and he was starting to wonder why.  He wasn’t going to _ask_ her, of course, because he was happy to extend his lifespan, but he did ask plenty of other questions.  Like how she came to be in power in the first place.

                They were standing in her throne room, which was clearly her favorite room in the fortress.  Initially he thought it was for the throne, but she rarely sat in it.  She spent most of the time standing by the large windows, the biggest in the fortress, as she was now.  From past experience, he knew they looked out clear to the busy market place teeming with people buying and selling the fruits of a plentiful harvest.

                This day he stayed a ways back, near the center of the room, giving her plenty of room as he asked what he thought was a rather daring question.

                “There used to be a council,” she started with far less fight than he would have expected.  “It wasn’t democracy, exactly, but it was something.  My parents were on it.  They’ve been gone so long it sometimes feels like that’s the only thing I remember about them.  Those, those were some good years for Ski.  But then the famine came when I was sixteen.”

                Bellamy started at that.  It was strange to hear the empress being anything short of eighteen and eighty.  He would have expected her to smirk at his reaction.  Normally she would have, but today she was too caught up in her own memories.

                “And you can’t imagine how bad, how terrible it was- there’s no one else alive left to remember.  There was a plan, in the council, to let go of some territories, leave them open to invasion and starvation to leave more food for the rest of us.”  She paused, gave a small, sad smile as if to reassure him.  “My father was going to release the plan, but my mother, convinced it was our only hope for survival, had him arrested.  He was in solitary, not allowed to talk to anyone, but a council member convinced the chancellor their secret was still not safe.  So Chancellor Jaha ordered my father be executed, even though he knew it would mean the death of my mother as well.  In the end, they didn’t give up the territories, but they loosened protection and Jaha’s son, one of the few soldiers who remained, died in a border skirmish.”

                The memory seemed to disturb her and Bellamy pretended not to notice.  After a moment, she continued.

“Jaha stepped down as chancellor so he could live out the rest of his days praying penance on the steps of a monastery.  We only learned he had died when his wife dropped in the middle of a lesson.”  She sounded resigned, almost bored, as she finished her account.  “The border skirmish increased.  The council member who killed my parents was by this point the new chancellor.  He sought peace with the Grounders but found the Grounders were uninterested- their supposed peace summit turned into a bloodbath and our representatives were all killed.  The remaining council members, safe in Ark, quickly resigned.  There was a war and a famine and only me, at seventeen, left to lead us.”

                “So you led a war,” Bellamy concluded.

                Now she met his eye and corrected him with a haunting smile.  “There’s no need to be kind, Bellamy.   ‘A war’ sounds so neat. _I_ set fire to an army so I could take their fields, leaving thousands of their people to starve.  I exposed every rivalry between their clans so they would fight each other and make alliances with me, alliances I broke as soon as I needed.  When the Mountain Men interfered, I poisoned their lake.  Do you know what they called me then?”

                He swallowed around his dry throat before answering, “Wanheda.”

                “Commander of Death,” she translated.

                Bellamy nodded, remembered who he was talking to.  “Sounds like you deserved it.

                Clarke turned up her chin at that.  “I did what I had to do for Ski to survive.”

                “So you called yourself Great Empress, instead.”

                Her head lost its defiant stance, almost ducked when she explained, “Believe it or not, the ‘Great’ came with time.  And ‘Empress’ is just technically correct.  When I was little, I wanted to be a princess.”  She glanced away again.  “But, then, a princess wouldn’t do the things I have done.”

                There was a moment of silence then as the empress looked out the window at the nation she had killed so many to secure.  Bellamy stayed to contemplate his recent history lesson.

                “Why’d you stay in control?”

                His outburst startled her.  “Pardon?”

                “After the war was over,” he clarified.  “If it was as bad as you say, who’d keep the job?”

                She shook her head.  “The war wasn’t over.”

                “But it did get better.  You can’t say it didn’t.”

                Clarke shrugged.  “No one wanted the position.”

                “Excuse me?”

                “You’re surprised?” she asked with a face saying he shouldn’t be.  “It’s not a fun job, worse when you’re doing it alone.  I would have given it up to any qualified person, but no one wanted the burden.”  Quieter, as if admitting something dirty, she told him, “I bore it so they wouldn’t have to.”

                Suddenly, unexpectedly, Bellamy was filled with sympathy for his soulmate.  He didn’t know what to do with that, so he went with a more obvious response.

                “Well, people do now.”

                Clarke cocked her head to the side, almost innocently.  “Do they?”

                “Yes!  The rebellion wants a democracy.”

                She smiled condescendingly.  “That’s not the same thing.”

                “Where’s the difference?” he asked, exasperated.

                “They say they want democracy? Who among them wants to establish it?” she queried. “Who do they volunteer to lead?”

                The question wasn’t one Bellamy was expecting and it took a long minute of her expectant gaze before he could answer.

                “Pike.”  He looked at her now with defiant chin up high.  “He’s talked about running for chancellor.”

                “One man?” she scoffed.  “You’d be trading an empress for an emperor.  And a war monger at that.”

                “Pike’s more than that.”

                She rolled her eyes.  “Trust me, I know all about Pike.”

                “Then what?” Bellamy bit back.  “You’re just going to be empress forever?”

                “There are applications for every government position at each station,” she answered primly.  “Even my position.”

                Bellamy couldn’t help looking incredulous.  “Anyone would be too scared.”

                 “Well, who wants a coward for a leader?”

                He couldn’t seem to come up with an argument against that and she seemed to realize, if her sad, condescending, little smile was anything to go off of.

                Finally, Bellamy caught her eye and gave her the stern retort, “This doesn’t make you right.”

                “You think of a solution, Bellamy, let me know,” she replied.  “I haven’t come up with one in a hundred years.”

OOO

                Her words disturbed him more than they should have.  Even when he laid down in the absurdly comfortable bed that was his during his imprisonment, he couldn’t sleep.  His mind instead went to the council leaving Clarke to become Wanheda at eighteen, to the horrors Clarke had committed on Ski’s behalf, to the DROP site that even Miller didn’t want to lead, to the prophecy.  Bellamy laid awake a couple hours and then, with far less preparation than he would have thought possible, stole out of the fortress. 

It would have been harder if he had tried a couple weeks ago but now he had enough of Clarke’s trust that it was just the simple task of wandering casually so no one questioned him all the way to kitchens and then walking straight out the door.  Truthfully, he hadn’t been much of a prisoner for two weeks at that point.

                When Clarke heard the next morning that he was gone, she tried not to be surprised.  They were at war and it seemed only she was foolish enough to think maybe he was on her side.  Still, she couldn’t bring herself to regret putting off the Rive.  All throughout his stay she hadn’t been able to stop speculating which part of her soul she would lose.  An ugly thought.   Clarke knew her soul was spotted, gray, old, twisted even, but at least it was whole.

OOO

                And then, a month later, he was back.

                It was not nearly as quiet an entrance as it was an exit.  There was a whole party travelling with him- the bulk of the rebellion if she were to judge.  Guards looked to her, anticipating orders to apprehend and imprison, but she only waved to allow the invaders to pass.  It took a frustratingly long time to convince them she meant it but when they finally left to follow her orders, she proceeded to the throne room.  If they wanted a coup, they would have all the trappings, but she determined in that moment she would deny them the greatest part.

                Sooner than she expected, calmer than she expected, the doors opened and in walked Bellamy Blake.  Only Bellamy Blake.  Surprising, but no real matter.  It was all the same.

                “Took you long enough,” she greeted.

                He looked offended.  “There was a lot to do.”

                “Not really.  I took care of most of the complicated parts.”  She waved to indicate the man to her left.  “Jackson will take you to the inner chamber so you can prepare.  If you don’t mind, I am going to have a bit of chocolate cake before the ceremony.  He’ll find me once you’re ready.”

                Now he was bewildered.  “I’m not going to Rive us.”

                She gave him a fake attempt of sympathy.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to because I’ve decided I’m quite unwilling to break my own soul.  And the Rive must be done before the kill.”

                “I’m not going to kill you.”

                “Life imprisonment then?  More expensive.  But less bloody, I’ll give you that.  Problem is if I ever decide to be difficult and kill myself.”  She gave him a stern look.  “I know it’s not pretty, Bellamy, but you have to learn to think this way if you’re going to take care of our people.”

                “Guess we’ll have to leave that side of things to you, then.”

                Now _she_ was confused.  “What?”

                “This isn’t a coup,” he explained, his eyes wide as he shook his head.  “Well, it is.  Sort of.  But from within the system – I did it.”

                At this he held up a stack of papers she had until then ignored.

                Cautiously, she asked, “What are those?”

                “Applications.”  He grinned.  “For a new council, made up of representatives from a variety of priorities, which will advise their two leaders, a king and a princess.”

                His smile held so much confidence, so much joy and promise, she could only stare blankly back.  Seeing this, he came to the wrong conclusion and couldn’t seem to meet her eye.

                “The, uh, titles aren’t set in stone or anything; we were just trying to get the overall system laid out.  I was the one who came up with it actually.  I thought it would… but, of course, I could see why you wouldn’t-“

                He cut himself off then, probably at the huge smile coming onto her face.  It was bewildering.  He had never seen her smile before, never for real.  No one in living memory had.  Bewitching.

                “You got them-“ She started again, “They’re willing to do this?”

                “Yeah, they are.  They’re not really to take on any official responsibility for decisions unless we both die tragically but-“

                “But you’re with me?”

                She tried to keep her eyes serious, her mouth straight at this.  But she was definitely smiling.  It was difficult to remain aloof after a hundred years of waiting.  He seemed to realize; he seemed to appreciate it because his face was visibly softening to match her own.

                “Yes, princess.  I’m with you.”

                He hadn’t meant to use the new title, but it had been running through his head for weeks now and it simply slipped out.  Her uncontrolled look of elation, however, reassured him.

OOO

                Even peaceful transitions of power, perhaps especially peaceful transitions of power, take time.  It was several more months before Clarke could take any length of time away from the new council members without feeling guilty.  Having Bellamy helped.  Having Bellamy was wonderful. 

It wasn’t that they always agreed; sometimes it felt like they hardly ever agreed.  But on those frustrating days the council kept pointing out problems and refused to agree to any solutions, Bellamy was still there beside her.  The two of them would dictate a solution that no one would love, themselves included, but needed to happen and then, then they would share the blame.

                She thinks the rebels turned council members changed less than they had planned, but they were determined to adjust their foreign policy.  It was slippery, frustrating work, yet they were definitely making progress.  Their neighbors were more willing to listen when they learned of the shift in power.  The Grounders, who had always admired Clarke as much as they hated her, had already signed some tentative trade agreements.  Their conversations with the Mountain Men were significantly less smooth, but there was a ceasefire that no one had violated yet and some plans for an embassy that were moving slower than her reign as empress.  Jasper, of all people, had even managed a successful, albeit cryptic, meeting with the Ocean People.  It was a small victory, but a huge accomplishment.  The Ocean People hadn’t met with anyone in Clarke’s memory.

                Now, taking a small moment away from policy negotiations and Murphy’s sarcasm, Clarke stood out on the balcony above the throne room.  It was a bit chilly still, but with the busyness the throne room now attracted, this was her new favorite spot in the castle.

“Your highness.”

                The only person who didn’t need to use the title stood a few feet from her now.

                “Yes, your highness?”

                He seemed to catch the joke, always did once he had learned she was capable of making one.

                “There was… a bit of a situation,” he started delicately, “with the Grounders.”

                Instantly, she was alarmed.

                “What situation?  Has there been an invasion?  A problem at the embassy?”

                “Er, nothing that severe, really.”  He ducked his head nervously, couldn’t meet her eye when he continued, “They were just… offended because they thought we snubbed them when inviting our allies to our, uh, our wedding.”

                Suddenly, she was glad he was avoiding her gaze.  This was not what she-

                “It’s to be expected,” he added.  “I suppose.  I mean, technically, we _are_ soulmates and we’re mostly not trying to kill each other nowadays-“

                “Ideal relationship right there.”

                “-but I understand that’s not what you want and I’m sorry for how uncomfortable this all must make you feel.”

                Clarke raised her eyebrows in surprise.  “I never said that wasn’t what I wanted.  
                He seemed… puzzled at this.

                “Aren’t you too old for me?”

                She smiled, glad to get back to a topic she could handle.  “Technically, you’re older.”

                Which was true.  He had turned nineteen last month and she was still three months away from her first real birthday in a hundred years.  It was childish to look forward to it, really, but she would no longer be eighteen and anything.  Just nineteen sounded deliciously simple, so much lighter.

                “So are you saying you would…?” Bellamy asked haltingly.

                “Yes.  Yes, of course,” she answered as if it were obvious.  Because it should have been obvious.

“Really?”

                She was thinking of snapping but this time when he asked he was on one knee before her, struggling with the chain around his neck.  She stared down at the ring now waiting in his open palm.

                “It was my mother’s,” he offered by way of explanation.  “I was saving it for Octavia, but I talked to Lincoln and it turns out he-“

                “Yes,” Clarke interrupted, too impatient to hear about Lincoln’s own heirloom.

                Bellamy looked stunned.   “Yes?  Wha- really?”

                She hesitated a moment at his look.  “Should we consult the council?”

                “No,” he answered, still clearly dazed but now amused.  “I think we’re good.”

                Clarke slipped the ring on herself because he was taking too long.  It was too small for her ring finger and had to go on her pinky for the moment, but it was a beautiful ring.  She looked up to find Bellamy watching her with a silly little smile on his face, and it soon became clear she was going to have to do everything.

                “You could probably kiss me now.”

                Bellamy’s eyes widened.  “Kiss you?”

                “We are engaged.”

                “Engaged?”

                Clarke looked ready to strangle him.  “Did you not just propose?”

                “Oh.  Oh, yeah.”  His smile widened and he was instantly forgiven.

                She was shaking her head in disbelief because he _still_ wasn’t kissing her, but he stopped her face with gentle hands and ended her impatience with an eager kiss.  It took a moment for him to loosen enough that she could thread her arms between his and loop them around his neck.   His hands shifted to circle her waist and hesitantly pull her a fraction closer.  Not close enough.  She tugged him tighter to her and he pulled back.

                “You’re so bossy,” he said with a brilliant, wondering smile that would have charmed her if he weren’t teasing her.

                She really did try to strangle him then.  It was difficult to accomplish around his kisses and he ended up surviving.  So they got married after all.

OOO

                The wedding had to come after her birthday because she insisted she be nineteen, just nineteen, when she got married and no one, not even her impatient fiancé, could find the will to fight her on it.

                Her birthday wasn’t supposed to have any large celebrations; she hadn’t felt like she had earned any yet.  The council allowed it, although Monty insisted they have a chocolate cake for the occasion because it _was_ her birthday and he had fallen in love with the dessert at Bellamy’s birthday.  There was next to nothing planned officially, but the _people_ celebrated.  There were parades and festivals all across the plateau and it would have been rude to miss all of them.  A hundred years of controlling her emotions served Clarke well, but Murphy will still swear she had wiped her eyes on Bellamy’s shoulders when the villagers brought her flowers.

                The wedding _was_ supposed to be a big event, but it was mostly for diplomatic purposes.  The Grounders were pleased to finally receive the invitation and the Mountain Men agreed to be in the same room as their still rocky allies.  Even a few People of the Ocean attended, although they left soon after the ceremony.  It was considerably less fun than Clarke’s birthday, but it did the job.

                The council’s wedding present to them was supposed to be three days for a honeymoon.  Clarke and Bellamy stayed close by, which was good because before noon on the second day Jasper was knocking to alert them to a crisis.  Grounder representatives from rivalling clans were ready to start a fist fight in the great hall and it wasn’t _the council’s_ fault he was interrupting their honeymoon.

                Jasper wasn’t sure if he believed Clarke when she said it was alright, but he did believe Bellamy when he said they weren’t actually expecting a full three days.  But it wasn’t _his_ fault they needed them.  They were their leaders.  Both of them, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. Kudos and comments are always appreciated- I look forward to learning from what you have to say.

**Author's Note:**

> Not going to lie. I was definitely writing this instead of working on a ten page final essay due Friday. That being said, I should be be updating next week after the semester's over. And with THAT being said, I already have most of the rest typed up.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this stunning evidence of my poor impulse control. If not, please leave a comment on what I can fix. I look forward to learning from what your responses.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
